High Frequency

From left to right: ‘Mahavishnu’ John McLaughlin, Sri Chinmoy and ‘Devadip’ Carlos Santana

It is perhaps for good reason that as consumers we recognize and understand Carlos Santana, and his music as spectacular and mind-bending latin influenced psychedelic rock and roll. And it is spectacular. What is equally spectacular, albeit much less appreciated by the general population of musical consumers, is his foray into the world of jazz. The early 1970s were a period of awakening and exploration for Santana. We tend to deify these rock stars, but when you realize that he was only 25 at this time this all sounds about natural. See, in 1972 Carlos found his interests piqued by the music and spiritualities of John McLaughlin and the Mahavishnu Orchestra. It was very much a spiritual awakening for Carlos, and his newfound interest in meditation was not lost on McLaughlin. Later in that same year John would introduce Carlos and his wife Deborah to his guru, Sri Chinmoy. Carlos was given the name Devadip, which can be understood as meaning “the lamp, light, and eye of God.” Thus, a new world was born. And in this new sound, he would be most frequently credited as Devadip Carlos Santana on. He released several solo projects and collaborated with such jazz-spiritual icons as Alice Coltrane and John McLaughlin. It seems to be an entirely different musical identity, independent of his previous success. It also seems to be that he wanted it that way. In something of an intentional shift, the music truly EXPANDED, growing outwardly in all directions.

The first proect born of this spiritual experience was a collaborative musical effort between Devadip and McLaughlin (who is often referred to as Mahavishnu, also a name given by Sri Chinmoy). Though credited as Carlos Santana (he had not yet been given his new name), ‘Love, Devotion, Surrender’ was the first release in his reformation as Devadip Carlos Santana. The cover of the album dons a photograph of the two walking in hushed conversation, appearing more like student and teacher than like colleagues in music. And perhaps this IS how it was. For Carlos, Mahavishnu was a door to more. A spiritual guide. More than just a musical collaborator. The music, sharing only the most basic elements of music with his prior output (rhythm, instrumentation, and melody), is vast and shimmering but shapeless and concentric. It is without form. It dips and soars and loops around, present in its current form but for a single moment in what we can only remember to be time before it represents itself again with new dimension.

When considering his paired interest in spirituality and meditation, the nature of the music is easy to understand, for it has many of the same essential properties. And there is an energy akin to a search, but not a search for something. A search for nothing. A search for anything. It’s a search for answers, but asking any question will destroy its very purpose, which is to let the answer find the question. It’s been said that the truth waits for eyes unclouded by longing. There is no longing here, in this music. No cloud. And so it was, in 1973 Devadip emerged.

As his experience in spirituality and meditation progressed, Devadip intertwined further with figures of the scene, interacting with jazz-spiritual Turiva Alice Coltrane. Soon, Turiva and Devadip began to collaborate musically and in 1974 their record ‘Illuminated’ was released to the people. The album goes further out from the sound of Santana than ever before. It simmers and pops, cools, and reignites in much the same way as the mind. As the music fires like synapses, it rises overhead to observe itself. It is out of its body. Present and not. It’s a universe of sound which continues to expand, consciously. As we should be as people. Santana’s birth as Devadip is his personal expansion. Devadip was not just a new musical identity, as the music is secondary to the person. At its core it was an expansion of mind, spirit, and personal identity. Constantly making conscious effort to improve oneself.

With the music as a vehicle of expression of this change, Devadip released his first solo effort, ‘Oneness – Silver Dreams Golden Reality.’ With full creative control, Devadip leaned into something completely his own. In the spirit of continuous expansion, this project was a trip into another kind of space inside the mind of his music. Spinning further into fusion of his rock and latin sensibilities with his new explorations in meditation and the jazz-spiritual scene, this record had a much more driving and developed rhythm section. Status runs in unison on drums and guitar rose and fell and rose again like lightning in a storm or a heart monitor. The tempo pushed and the energy was high. It was an expanding universe of sound around your head in constant motion. It was, and remains to be, absolutely supreme. In Devadip’s words, the album was inspired by a record by Weather Report entitled ‘Mysterious Traveler.’

One of the most remarkable aspects of Devadip was that of the continuous development in each new project. With each one, he looks further inwards, and the music becomes more. They are a narrative of a personal journey in search of truth.

In 1980 the search continued with ‘The Swing of Delight.’ This project would present the final form of the music of Devadip. The album sounds like ‘Oneness’ evolved. As driving and inquisitive as the albums previous, but it had more direction in its search, as if this time it knew the questions to ask. The tone was shrouded in a jovial intensity intent on reaching the extremities of everyone in earshot like a bolt in a pool. And the electricity twirled up and down and left and right. It soared overhead and it rumbled underneath, but it still led with love. The songs always came from love. For this project, Devadip tapped the legendary prowess of such expressive visionaries as Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter and Tony Williams. This jaw-slacking band pushed everything in a beautiful frenzy outward toward the confines of the mind. Its presence was theatrical, yes, but unscripted and unrehearsed. Spun from silk pulled straight from the soul. Woven by the heart. Completely stoned.

The transformation in his musical identity from the late 1960s to 1980 was clear to everyone. A deeply spiritual personal journey into uncharted metaphysical territory. The music may have been marvelous, but many of his fans found it much less accessible than his more mainstream foundation. At the same time as Devadip was expanding himself and his musical interests and involvements, his band Santana was releasing music too. You see, while Devadip came further into himself, he found himself with less creative control over the musical direction of Santana. But still, his explorations leaked into their recordings, and record sales suffered. Still he pushed forward; a reminder that this journey was personal at its core. This was a time of instability for Santana, splattered with legal disputes, personal grievances, and several lineup and management changes. Regardless, the music was transcendent. An outlet. And it never stopped evolving. It has become a model for living. A reminder to look inward, seeking evolution and expansion.

‘The Swing of Delight’ came to be the final album released by Devadip. As his career went on, he and his wife Deborah found that the demands of the lifestyle imposed by guru Sri Chinmoy were becoming increasingly unreasonable, and they slowly grew more disillusioned with the whole environment. It seems possible to exist in between these worlds. A fine line to ride. Somewhere in the middle, becoming rounded and whole, but it became clear that to Chinmoy, there was no middleground. The guru would even go so far as to forbid them to start a family, which in turn would put strain on the marriage. Not only this, but they felt as though the guru used the musician’s success to increase his own visibility.  In 1982, Carlos and Deborah Santana ended their relationship with guru Sri Chinmoy, and Carlos would drop the name Devadip from any future releases. And while the music continued to unfold, he moved his artistic priorities back to his band.

Devadip was something of a mystery to the average consumer. Why would somebody choose to push their sound out of a territory which brought them so much success, and the key early support of people with significant influence on the scene? People like legendary promoter Bill Graham. And why, when urged by Bill Graham NOT to abandon this iconic sound, would he go on to do so anyway? Well as it happens, there is something about music, especially to Carlos, that is infinitely more valuable than success. A single simple thing, but one which is indispensable. Love. Love is the seed which becomes the song. You must water the seed. You must water the Love with Devotion and Surrender. Plant the love and water it daily. Water it with meditation, song, or prayer, I don’t care. But devote yourself to it. To watering the love and letting it grow.